Long Fall
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Clara is in a coma and she sees the five people she has loved and lost over the course of her life and she spends a day with each one of them...


It surprised here that through all of her travels with the Doctor, Clara had never truly thought about death – about what it would feel like, or where she would go, or if she'd go anywhere at all. She supposed it was because somewhere, in the back of her mind, were the memories of all of the deaths of all of her echoes. Deaths that brought them back to a re-awoken woman trapped in a healing Time Lord's time stream. Perhaps she'd grown used to the notion that she could never die.

She'd simply return to herself. To a new version of herself.

So when the rough base of a staff cracked her skull just before she teetered over the edge of a seemingly bottomless pit, the Doctor screaming her name, Clara had a very sudden and unexpected thought: _My stars, I'm going to die_. And it came with a half breathed laugh before her body collided with something that felt, in that moment, like concrete. A surface that took the air from her lung and plunged her into a darkness that froze her body in an instance.

"Never thought I'd see you so soon, Clara."

Jerking awake, she sat up and blinked against the living room she was sitting in. She thought she recognized it and she took a moment to look around before letting her eyes trail over to the woman in the oversized chair in a corner. The woman who offered the same warm smile she'd always worn when she'd been alive, shuffling two small children around with her and never letting the world or her circumstances bother her.

"Where am I?" Clara asked lightly. "Have I died?"

Mrs. Maitland shook her head and gave a hoarse laugh that perked the corners of Clara's lips upward because she thought she'd never hear that laugh again – though there were traces of it in her daughter's amusement. She'd forgotten how much they looked like her. Same lighter complexion; Angie had gotten her mane of beautiful curls and Artie had inherited those curious eyes…

"Mrs. Maitland," Clara asked firmly, "Have I died?"

"On your way there," the woman told her sadly.

Nodding, Clara gripped the sofa at either side of her and she took an accepting breath, then listened to the woman laugh again and she glanced up at her, asserting, "Angie and Artie are safe, back home with their dad."

She seemed confused by the statement, replying quietly, "Oh, I know where my babies are, Clara, and I know what you've done for them." She tilted forward, brow rising slightly, "Told you I'd be watching over, always."

Clara laughed shyly and bowed her head, giving it a tilt before admitting, "Sorry, it's just, you're dead – you can't really watch over anything."

She feigned offense and then shot, "And how would you know that?"

"It's just," she trailed, eyes coming up to meet the other woman's.

"She's watching over you, sweetheart – always has and always will."

Her chuckle was light, and Clara turned away, tongue touching her top lip lightly as she considered the space to take her mind off the statement. A waiting room? A rung on a ladder? It was the Maitland's living room, she knew, but wasn't death supposed to come in either a blinding light or a searing fire or a mind numbing darkness? She closed her eyes and shook her head and when she opened them, she was sitting in the middle of a road.

Clara shifted, looking around at the empty streets and she listened to the wind playing through the leaves and when she heard the footsteps, she turned her head, voice caught in her throat to see Danny stepping calmly towards her, then sitting cross-legged in front of her and smiling. His head swung slightly as he touched the edges of his trousers, glancing up sheepishly at her before nodding.

"Hello, Clara," he told her on a grin.

"Hi," she managed, voice barely audible.

"You know, you promised me once you'd leave the Doctor if things got too dangerous."

"I'm sorry," she breathed, watching him straighten, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Danny turned away and smiled at the sky, "It's alright – it wasn't a promise I ever expected you to keep."

Clara nodded and waited for him to turn back to look at her to reach out for his hands, holding tightly to them as she felt tears roll warmly over her cheeks. He tightened his grip on her fingers and she laughed. "Everything's fine then," she affirmed.

"You're in a place between living and dead," Danny laughed, "Everything's as far from fine as it can be."

"But I get it now," Clara explained, "You're guides – you're leading me."

He nodded slowly, "Clara, don't."

"Don't what?" She asked quickly, "I don't understand, Danny."

Frowning, he released her and tightened one hand into a fist in his lap while rubbing at the back of his neck with the other, nervous laugh tapering down into a quiet stare as he brought his hands together and closed his eyes a moment. "You don't understand. You think you do, but you don't."

"What don't I understand, Danny?" She laughed. "This is the afterlife – the real afterlife. I'm dying, or dead, and you're here to ease the transition."

He shook his head and then he quickly shifted forward to kiss her gently. Like a soft warm breeze blowing over her lips and when he shifted away, she realized her eyes had closed and she pressed them tightly together, a quiet whimper escaping because she understood he was gone again.

"That is not fair," she spat at the cool air now enveloping her.

And there came a chuckle she hadn't heard in so long it nearly stopped her heart. "Oh, Clara, everyone knows there's no such thing as fair."

Her eyes opened slowly and she picked herself up off the street, looking to the glistening roads and the mannequins scattered along them. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as she turned and took in the woman leaned against the wall between two shops, her dark eyes taking in the broken glass of the display before drifting to meet hers.

"Mum," she mouthed, her body trembling lightly as she took one shaky step towards her.

Ellie pushed off the wall and smiled, arms outstretched and Clara rushed into them, gripping tightly to the woman now pressed against her. Her hands grabbed hold of the sweater her mother wore and she inhaled her perfume deeply, determined not to close her eyes and have it be taken away again.

"Please tell me you're the last."

"The last what?" Ellie laughed.

"Whatever this is," she moped back at her, head shaking slightly.

"Clara," the woman sighed, pulling her away to cup her face in her hands. Clara watched her mother look over her face, some bit of pride there, she imagined, and then the woman kissed her forehead and laughed, telling her quietly, "I've missed you so."

"I've missed you too, mum," Clara choked out. Then she nodded and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Home," Ellie told her, nodding slowly, "There's someone waiting for you – someone holding on very tightly to you – and you have to go back to them."

Clara's lips trembled as she asked, "Them? Shouldn't I go with you?"

"I'm not your home anymore, and I haven't been in a very long time."

"No," Clara whispered, "No, you are. You're my mum and you're here to take me home."

"You don't know where you are, do you?" Ellie questioned, eyes narrowing slightly as she smiled.

Shaking her head, Clara looked her over and then looked around at the streets, her hands holding tightly to her mother's, "I'm on the street where you died – I was with Danny where he died. Mrs. Maitland…"

"Clara," her mother called, interrupting her. "It's ok to close your eyes."

"But then you disappear," Clara turned to tell her, watching her mother nod.

"You have to tumble through the layers, one way or the other."

Shaking her head, Clara spat, "No, don't tell me that – I stay here with you. That's final."

Fingers shifting free of hers, Ellie lifted a hand to Clara's hair and she brushed it back, sighing as she told Clara lightly, "Hold on."

"I am holding on," Clara urged, hands finding her mother's wrists to grip them, watching the woman smile as she continued to look her over – to study her reddened cheeks as they were parted by heavy tears. "Mum, I'm holding on."

On a long sigh, Ellie responded, "I know, baby girl," and she pulled her into another hug, this one warmer and deeper than the previous and Clara laid her head into her mother's shoulder, feeling her mother's hands drift soothingly over her back until she realized she'd closed her eyes.

But the body in her grasp hadn't left her and she relaxed in the arms that held her tightly, the hands that patted gently against her and she coughed a sob because with one small inhale, she knew her mother was gone again. Replaced by someone whose loss had hurt just as much and had lingered just as profoundly and, she imagined, would hang on her heart for just as long.

"Keep holding tight to me, Clara," the Doctor told her.

This wasn't the Doctor who stiffened under her touch – this was the Doctor who held her tighter and pecked gentle kisses into the top of her head. The Doctor who nudged at her temple with his chin and chuckled when she laughed in response. Clara listened to his heartbeats for a moment longer and then she lifted her head to look into his calm grin.

"Never letting go," she told him coyly.

"Do you know what's happening, Clara?" He asked her softly.

Shaking her head, she proposed, "I'm not dying?"

"Suppose that's entirely up to you," he admitted.

"You're the genius Time Lord," Clara teased.

He nodded, then sighed, "Only as much as you think I am."

She pushed at his shoulder playfully, but her fingers found the fabric of his purple jacket and she curled them around it, smile fading from her lips as she looked up at him, "It's not real – none of it's real."

"Stuck in your own mind," he told her, tapping her temple with his free hand before offering a soft laugh to tell her, "Dangerous place to be."

Trying to smile, she stepped into him and asked quickly, "But am I dying?"

"Do you want to die, Clara?"

Her head shook and her lips mouthed 'No,' but no sound emerged.

"Hold tight," he repeated, then added, "And close your eyes."

"I don't want to close my eyes – I close my eyes and I lose you again," she cried.

Head tilting slightly to his right, he cupped her cheek in his hand and shook his head, "Oh, Clara, no. No, no, no – you've never lost me. You couldn't ever lose me, or your mum, or Danny, or Mrs. Maitland… we merely become memories you hold tight to."

"I don't want you to be memories," she complained, "I want to stay here and be with you."

"Then you die," he stated harshly.

Clara turned away and she shrugged, but then turned back and barked, "Then I die."

The Doctor smiled and took a long breath and she could see the anger in his features as he moved towards her, fingers sliding over her cheeks and embedding into her hair, holding her gingerly. "Clara Oswald," he said, "My Clara Oswald." He kissed her forehead quickly and then pulled back, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "There's so very much for you to return to – so many more things to do; so many more places to go; so many more people to meet. Why would you ever want to leave now?"

She smiled and reached to hold onto the lapels of his jacket, "I miss you."

"I'm always with you, Clara."

Her voice broke as she told him, "I know."

And she closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. It was soft at first, like it'd been with Danny, but then he deepened the kiss as Clara moaned. His tongue slipped over hers and her grip on his jacket tightened as her body grew warmer and warmer. But just as swiftly as he'd begun melting into her, he dissolved away. He was a hot breath in her mouth and the fabric of his clothes became rocks underneath her frozen fingers.

His lips shifted off hers and suddenly his palms thrust into her chest and Clara coughed, eyes pinching shut as her chest constricted and she sputtered water up over her face. She felt hands grabbing at her body, tilting her onto her side as she continued to wheeze and spit up the contents of her stomach along with the water she'd inhaled and she heard the odd laugh at her side mingled with his heavy breathing.

"I've got you, Clara," the Doctor told her quietly.

The Sonic buzzed over her and then she felt a thumb at her forehead, felt the sting of her injuries as he pressed into them, hissing for her as a new stream of warm blood flowed over her skin. Clara coughed and listened as he urged her to take small breaths and she struggled to do so, but his hand continued to rub small soothing circles over her back – not something she'd have expected from him.

"Clara," he gasped, "Don't worry, I've got you."

"What…" she tried, before her voice was lost to coughs.

He laughed awkwardly and then explained, "Took a good knock to the head, but I've got him sorted now."

"How…" she tried again, opening her eyes to try and focus in the darkness.

"Oh," he laughed, "Yeah, he sort of pushed you off a cliff."

"You…" she wheezed.

Brushing a hand over her hair, thumb stroking tenderly over her earlobe, he told her plainly, "I jumped."

Clara touched her temple to the cold sandy ground beneath her. She imagined at the bottom of the pit there had to be a pool of water and she also imagined he had no idea how they were going to get out. But he jumped in after her. As naturally as taking a breath, she thought as she managed to. Turning her head slightly, she looked up at the blurred image of his face in the dim green light his Sonic allowed and she nodded slowly.

"You jump; I jump," he offered, climbing around her and hooking his fingers underneath her arms to pull her up against him, hands immediately rubbing vigorously at her body to warm her and she suddenly realized she was shivering.

Clara swallowed and she nestled her head into his chest, feeling the quick faint pulse of his hearts, knowing the fear he wasn't displaying, and she reached a shaky hand up to grab hold of his coat to whisper, "I died."

"No," asserted, his body stilling as his hands gripped tightly to her, "You held on."


End file.
